Keegan’s a good listener and knows when to refill a glass or cut someone off who’s had a bit too much. He reads the room well, and he’s quick with a laugh, or even to join Maggie for a song—which surprised me.

He has a wonderful singing voice.

It’s been fun watching Keegan, Maggie, and Shawn together. Their love for each other is evident. I didn’t realize that families got along like this outside of fiction.

Once I’ve finished my dinner, I take my dishes to the kitchen and then climb the stairs to Keegan’s apartment above. Finally, with no eyes on me, I can move a bit slower.

My feet are screaming. The blisters are bad enough, but add in my sore ankles and achy toes, and I want to cry.

Still, I make it upstairs and flop down on the couch. I turn on the TV to have some noise and lean my head back against the cushions.

I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, Keegan is standing over me and shutting off the TV.

“Oh, sorry. I fell asleep.”

His lips twitch as I stand, and then he scowls when I turn to walk away.

“Why are you limping?”

“My feet are just a little sore.”

“Sit.” His stern voice leaves no room for argument.

I do as he asks, and he kneels in front of me and unties the shoes Maggie lent me. When he peels off the socks, he gasps.

“My God, you’re fucking bleeding, Izzy.”

“Yeah, the blisters are a bitch. And my ankles are sore.”

“You needn’t have worked your feet into bloody stumps.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, but he stands and stomps into the bathroom. I hear the tub filling, and then he returns and lifts me right off the couch. “I can walk, you know.”

“Not on these feet, you can’t.” He sits me on a stool next to the tub, and when it’s the temperature he likes, he urges me to put my feet in. “It’s going to sting on those blisters for a second, but you need to soak your feet, lass.”

Honestly, as long as he calls me lass, I’ll do whatever he wants.

He’s right. The blisters sting when they hit the warm water, but after a few moments, it subsides. Keegan disappears for a bit, but when he returns, he has a hot cup of tea.

“I added honey because you like your drinks sweet.”

“How do you know that?”

“The wine you like is sweet, and you added sugar to your coffee this morning.”

I eye him as I sip the tea. “It’s delicious, thank you.”

He kneels next to the tub and reaches in to see to my feet. It’s quite nice to simply sip a hot drink while someone washes my feet in a warm tub.